


Oblivion

by NikkiZanetti



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Asexual Relationship, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes-centric, Bucky steals Lucky the Pizza Dog, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Deaf Clint Barton, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4560177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikkiZanetti/pseuds/NikkiZanetti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to popular belief, Sergeant Barnes didn't lose his arm when he fell from the train in 1944. No, it was taken from him years later, in Soviet Russia, when the Asset started making questions about the phrase scribbled down his left arm, about what did "never needed help, jerk." meant and why it had been placed there.<br/>When, in 2012, the sole question "Bucky?" appeared on the back of his neck, no one told him about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Ayy, hello there! This is my first published Marvel fic, and it is based around the idea of soulmate-identifying marks that appear on one's body when their soulmate is born. The mark consists on the first thing they ever say to you, and it brings physical pain the first time you hear it.  
> This is set just a few days after the events of The Winter Soldier movie, and it has a couple of details from the comics, though nothing major. (The only things from the comics are Clint Barton's past and his BAMF sidekick, Kate. Oh, and also their dog, Lucky. Also, Clint's apartment is in NY, but for the sake of the plot, let's say it's in DC shall we.)  
> Hope you enjoy! <3

> **Chapter One - The Stealing Of a Dog.**
> 
>  

The Soldier stood in the middle of the room, frozen, blue eyes glued to the animal growling from the entrance hallway, it's only functioning eye glinting in the darkness. The man couldn't understand how he had made such a stupid mistake as he observed the apartment as to not notice that the dark-haired woman - Kate, the man called her - had not taken the dog along with them when they left. It wasn't like him to make any kinds of mistake, so he decided to blame his sloppiness on his hunger. Excuses would not make the situation any easier, though. He needed to distract the blind dog, so he could finish his task. Such task consisted in taking all the food, clothing and medical supplies he needed. After leaving the blond man from the hellicarrier - the one who called him James Buchanan Barnes, a friend. - somewhat safe by the river's side, the Asset's sole mission had been survival. And, if surviving meant he needed to steal things from people who forgot their window open when leaving, he was more than glad to compliant, specially if keeping his mind focused on the self-ordered task meant he didn't need to think about the Smithsonian exposition he had visited just a few hours prior. 

The canine growls and barks, but makes no move to attack, which the intruder takes as a good sign. Not wanting to startle the animal, the crouches down to the floor, flesh hand extended in front of him, metal hand gripping the hunting knife nestled on his back, just in case. The dog approaches him carefully, teeth still bared, and takes his time while sniffing the strange man before licking his hand and wagging the tail. With the phantom of a smile dancing across his lips, he reads the tag on the animal's collar, and snorts at the distasteful phrase written on it. Lucky ( _'also responds to Arrow. Do not call him that.'_ written under it in small letters) barks again, but it almost sounds playful this time around. The Soldier lets go of his knife, using the metal fingers to tug at the name tagging instead, ripping it from the collar with a flick of his wrist. He nods to the animal solemnly, as if he had just saved it's life before standing up, throwing the retorted tag onto the kitchen counter. Now confident that he isn't under attack, the brunette makes his way around the small apartment, choosing what sustenance he thinks would work better for him, and one or two shirts that seemed a bit bigger than the others, and might fit him, even if a tad tighter than he was used to. While digging through one of the rooms - Messy and clearly owned by a male, he believes it to be Barton's - the Soldier comes across weaponry. Several different types of arrows, bows, crossbows and very few and fairly new-looking pistols. He takes the pistols, along with all the ammunition he can carry, but his mind starts to wonder who exactly Kate and Barton are. As the Asset starts to leave, Lucky whines, his head resting over dingy paws. The Soviet wraps his flesh arm around the dog's rib-cage, jumping out of the window a couple of seconds before Barton waltz into his home, bleeding and injured, with a screaming Kate hot on his wheels. 

 

It takes a whole of five seconds for the Winter Soldier to regret stealing the dog. He's made base of a vacant house conveniently away from the city, but there was still people living in proximity, and the quieter he could be, the better. The dog was not quiet. Lucky barked a lot, had the heaviest breathing the man had ever heard, and the click of his paws against the floor echoed throughout the empty house. It bothered the long-haired man that he was ready to pick up the animal and return it to Barton's apartment, but the way it curled up around his legs before falling asleep was more than enough to change his mind. With an awkward pat to the dog's head, he leans back and, for the first time in four days, allows himself to fall asleep. 


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky becomes sloppy when it comes to security, and Lucky gets to go to the park (and gets a new name).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Here's chapter two. Much of this one is just Bucky confronting his demons, but the story starts to take form by the end of it.

> **Chapter Two - Azaperone**
> 
>  

He dreams. Faces, places, voices. Gunshots. He wakes up, trembling and sweating before throwing up inside whatever he has in reach. Lucky - who has yet to be renamed - stays besides him the whole night, licking his face until his breathing is stabilized. A few days pass, and, every night, he dreams. Sometimes, the dreams are good. Dancing, beautiful places, laughter. Sometimes, they are bad. Pain, cold, blood. No matter what is the content of his dreams, the Soldier always wake up sick, sweating and vomiting, and every time Lucky is there, nudging him with it's cold nose or curling up around the man and keeping him warm. 

The Soldier leaves everyday in search for food. He doesn't need as much sustenance as most humans - he can endure hunger just fine - but he knows the dog needs to eat regularly. So he steals, and come back to their base with a heavy feeling on his stomach, expecting to see that the canine has somehow escaped. Every time he returns, Lucky is there, waiting for him and giving him a warm welcome. Everyday after that, he would take the dog to the same park as a reward. He knew it was stupid to keep habits so easy to track, but the happiness clear on the dog's body language when they stepped on the grass was enough to make him want to risk it.

The Asset can deal with the hallucinations - at least that is what he thinks they are - during the day, keeping his mind and body busy with something else, but the nights are bad. Unconscious, the long-haired man is an easy pray to his demons. Particularly a sickly pale and skinny one, with large blue eyes and blond hair that his lyrical-self calls Stevie. Stevie makes him throw up more than any other dream he has. Bucky, as dream-Stevie called him, wasn't sure why that was happening, but surely every time he thought of Stevie, asleep or not, his stomach would react badly to it, and most often than not he'd wake up, chocking and crying, with Stevie's voice still ringing through his head as if they were in the same room. "Never needed help, jerk." Stevie's voice would say, and before the Soldier could answer, he'd wake up, sweating and trembling, Lucky alert by his side. 

He knew his Stevie had a connection to the man on the bridge. The man that made his neck burn as if he had dropped acid on it with only one word. Bucky. He dreamed about that name. He'd dreamed about Stevie calling him that. The Smithsonian had told the Soldier that the man on the bridge and his Stevie were the exact same person, but he couldn't link the image he had of the man to the sick man from his dreams, the same way he couldn't relate Sergeant Barnes, a Howling Commando, to whatever he was now. He wasn't James. He wasn't Bucky. The Soviet was a shadow, designed to maim, kill and spread terror to anyone that went against Mr. Pierce. But now his handler - owner - was dead, and he wasn't sure what to do. The Winter Soldier had been a gift of good faith to Mr. Pierce by the KGB, and now that he didn't have anyone to obey anymore, he couldn't help but wonder if it was supposed to return to Russia after Mr. Pierce's death, or if he should avenge it. He didn't want to comply to either of those options, and the fact that he wanted something for himself for the first time in seventy years was terrifying, but also incredibly freeing. He wanted not to kill anymore, he wanted Stevie back, wanted Lucky and, above all, wanted to be the brave man the exposition on the Smithsonian glorified. He wanted to be Sergeant James Barnes. 

That night, the nightmares get worse. He even thought he might have seized at some point, but with the going in and out of conscious it was hard to tell. Around five am, Bucky gave up trying to resist against the sick feeling all over his body; he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower, the water scalding hot as he wiped, his body shaking with a cold that wasn't there. An hour later he was at the park, body wrapped in a hoodie as he wallowed, Lucky running in circles around him. The tiredness and physical pain had his eyelids drooping, and, for a slip second, he allowed himself to drop his guards. It was way too soon for anyone to be at the park, and while making a habit of walking there was a risk he shouldn't be taking, it was way sooner than he used, so it should be relatively safe. Lost in his own haze of pain and memories, Bucky only saw it after it was too late. Lucky barked happily, licking Kate's face as the young woman crouched in front of her stolen dog, patting him in the head. Shooting up from his spot on the grass, the Soldier considered turning around and leaving the place before she made eye contact with him, but that meant abandoning Lucky. 

Kate gave Bucky a bright smile, still playing around with the dog. "He's beautiful." She told him in a light tone, making the Soldier frown, unsure if it was a play or if she truly had not recognized her own dog. "What's his name?"

"Stevie." The word slipped out of Bucky's mouth. "His name is Stevie."

The woman introduced herself as Kate, and while he already knew that from spying through her living room window, he acted like it was new, giving her a short nod and not saying his name back. He had no idea what his name was. The museum - and Stevie - told him it was James Buchanan Barnes, but it felt wrong on his tongue, like he was using someone else's identity. Kate's eyes where fixed on his left arm as if she knew what it was made of, his hand carefully hidden inside the hoodie's pocket.

"We probably should get going." He tells her, and, the moment the Soldier makes a move to call out for Lucky - Well, Stevie now - he hears the chirping of the comm inside her ear. A trap. Bait. Kate was bate, probably stalling him until the actual agents appeared. Cursing in Russian, he pulls out the hunting knife from his pocket, the metal prosthetic darting forward to grab her by the neck, pulling her close enough to press the sharp blade against her carotid. "Leave. Us. Alone." The Soldier growls, more than ready to thrust the blade into her neck, but Kate uses his anger as a distraction, and before he can comprehend what is happening, she already twisted her arm enough to dug a needle onto his own neck. 

As the world turns blurry, there is only one word on his lips.

"Bitch."


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is sad, Clint is pissed, and Natasha is the only one who's got her shit together, per usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not going to lie, it feels weird coming back to this story. I hit a rough patch with this chapter, and writing Bucky's demons was being quite toxic for myself; still, I couldn't abandon it, Oblivion always in the back of my mind, asking me to return, so here I am, with far more chapters written than I had before.

> **Chapter Three - Deal with the Devil**
> 
>  

Bucky woke up as the Winter Soldier, his usually chaotic mind sharp and alert. He was straped down to a chair, sans weapons and shoes; the restrains on his wrists were strong, and no matter how much he pulled and tugged at them, they wouldn't bugde; he could try and dislocate his wrist to release one hand, but the metal arm would still stay attached to the chair, and the Soldier guessed he'd need it later. As his struggled against his shackles, part of his brain recognized that his long hair wasn't falling onto his face as ususal. The Soldier allowed himself a moment of pure white panic before understanding that they hadn't cut his hair, but tied it to the back of his head. The action confused him, but he wasn't given time to mull it over, since the only door in the room opened and Clint Barton ('Experinced archer and assassin, clearly armed, no sign of nervousness, clear danger' the Soldier assessed) walked inside. He wasn't alone, though. Behind him, Steve ('Tatical trained and enhanced, unarmed, trembling hands and breathing irregular') stood blocking almost the whole doorframe, not allowing the Soldier a look outside, or anything that might help him recognize where they were. Along with the two men, a read-headed woman ('Experienced fighter, armed and potentially the biggest threat in the room') slipped under Steve's elbow and walked inside the room with more confidence than her two male companions. Bucky knew her. The Soldier knew her, not only from their violent encounter at the bridge, but from before. They had met at some point before Washington, but Bucky couldn't tell from where, although his instincts told him that she either had been a great ally, ot a high priority target. His left hand twichted. He needed to leave; he didn't know what they wanted from him, and though Steve - Captain Rogers - didn't seem like a threat, he knew better than to trust people that chained him into a chair. He wasn't no spy, and definitely not trained to deceive his captors, but there was a faint memory - a small red-haired girl, chained against a pole, bursting into tears and begging the man with a gun to her head to let her go - was the only thing he needed at the moment. His head dipped forward, a loud dry sob escaping his lips before he looked up, staring Captain Rogers dead into his blue eyes.   
"Steve." His voice cracked manigfically as the forced tears sprung into his eyes. It should alarm the Soldier that it had been so easy to get the flood of tears flowing, and once he sarted, it became quite difficult to get a hold of himself. "Stevie, please. Let me go. Please, Steve, let me go."  
Steve darted forward, face constricted, but the red-heaired put herself in the way, one hand on the Captain's chest, the other one close to the gun attached to her thigh.   
"It's a trick, Rogers." She barked, green eyes narrowing to the Soldier. "Can't you see he's manipulating you? Let him go, and not all of us walk out of here." While her words where a clear warning about the Soldier's skills, there was a crude undertone that made Bucky wonder if it hadn't also been a threat. Steve's bright blue eyes stared at him with something that the Soldier couldn't tell if it was hurt or disgust, and he hung his head down in shame, the threatics all gone from his features. A heart-beat of silence passed by before he looked up again, a concerned frown taking over his features.   
"Where's my dog?" The Soldier asked, the blonde archer snorting in response.   
"Do you mean my dog? The one you stole from my house? Along with my favorite shirt?" Barton barked out, a contained anger breaking through the syllables as he took a step forward, scowling at the red-haired when she called him out, one look from her making the archer stand back, heat still pooling his eyes.  
" 'Twas too big for you anyways." Bucky said after a moment of hesitation, the words sounding wrong to his ears, though unable to control his own tongue. The only response he got was a heavy punch to his cheekbone, the pain irradiating through his skull somehow making his thoughts a little clearer.   
"Barton!" Steve barked, face flushed with that Bucky assumed to be anger, the woman smiled, shifting her feet so she was between the two blonde males, and while it may have seemed too casual for anyone else in the room, Bucky knew it was the perfect place to stop them in case Captain Rogers decided that Clint was the one deserving of a punch. Steve sighed, seeming stressed and tired, all the fight falling out from his stance as he stared back at Bucky, the right side of his face already taking a nauseating shade of red.   
"Whadda ya want with me, punk?" Bucky asked, biting his lip as the nickname fell naturally out of his mouth, the word usually used with an offensive tone carrying an exaggerated amount of fondness. He had been acting on pure instinct so far; Instinc was good, kept him alive for many years, and now it was the only thing keeping him free from the claws of Hydra. That deep feeling into his gut, as if someone was literally squeezing the air out of his body every time his eyes met blue? That was a bad one. He had no recollection of who he had been, who he was and who he was supposed to be, but if there was one thing Bucky Barnes knew, was that the crushing sensation on his stomach was a bad bad sign if he wanted to stay alive.   
"We want to help you." Steve answered after a long pause, stammering out the words in a way that Bucky knew was truthful, yet nervous and uncertain.   
"Also, we need your help." The read-haired chimed in.  
Barton snorted. "Yeah, that's one hell of an understatement."  
The tied up man frowned, cocking his head to the side was he tried to understand why Steve Rogers and his friends would need him. When his handler needed him, that was easy. Put a gun to the Soldier's hand, a small rundown on a nameless generic target, and set him loose into the world. When Steve Rogers said he needed help, Bucky wasn't sure what that meant, but he could only guess that the Asset - not an asset anymore - needed to eliminate a threat.   
"What's the target?" He asked, his voice as emotionless as it had been for many decades, any hint of the Brooklyn drawl he seemed unable to control completely gone. The Captain - was that his knew handler? The Soldier wasn't sure, but was too afraid to ask - gasped, shaking his head profusely, turning his back to the man chained to the chair for a moment, his broad shoulders shaking in a way that only served to confuse the Soldier even more.   
"All we need is intel." The woman - what was her name? The Soldier could sense it like an itch to his tongue, though all he got in return when he pushed his brain to remember was nausea and a deep unsettling cold sensation to his gut - said explained, her voice cold and unwavering, though he could see the shine of something in her eyes. Hurt? Sadness? The Soldier couldn't tell. "We just need the location of every Hydra base you can remember."  
"Where do I know you from?" Bucky asked before he could stop himself. To anyone with untrained eyes, it would've seem that the woman simply responded with a nonchalant shrug, but he could see the way her eyes widened for a moment, her breathing pattern stopping, only to return in a much less moderate way.   
"Are you in, Sergeant?" She asked, her voice icier than it had been before, eyebrows twitching for half a second. The title she used make him hesitate, staring at her with doe eyes before looking back to the Captain, who was just now returning to his original position, seemingly to have recollected himself.   
"Pretty sure I ain't no Sergeant anymore, Miss." Bucky forced the words out, a bitter aftertaste hitting his tongue as if he had swallowed poison. "I'll help, if I get to go along when you pay 'em a visit."   
"Deal." Came the strong voice of Captain Rogers, giving the other two agents a pointed look, nodding slightly towards the door. The red-haired nodded, giving the Soldier a twitch of lips that one might consider a smile before turning on her heels and leaving the room, dragging a very willingly Barton along with her, leaving Bucky and Steve alone for the first time in over seventy years.


End file.
